


Detox

by speakgenerally



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 16:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20138641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakgenerally/pseuds/speakgenerally
Summary: She feels like she’s drowning and it’s worse than before because she doesn’t have drugs and she doesn’t have Peter. It makes her wonder if it was the debt that made her feel like this in the first place or maybe it just legitimized it. Before Aunt May got sick everything was easy even if MJ didn’t feel it. They had food and a place to live and they loved each other. They were a family even if she always felt like an outsider because she didn’t look the same. Looked like pity or a mistake.





	Detox

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be the second in a series with Wade/Peter as the first story so everything made more sense.
> 
> That did not work out as planned so just to clear a few things up. Peter is not Spider-Man, he’s a poor photographer that works for Weasel. Weasel still runs the bar, and sets up hits etc, Deadpool is still Deadpool. MJ is Peter’s best friend who lived with him and Aunt May. 
> 
> I used Venom and Carnage as names for basically a loan shark and a big drug dealer/criminal. They are not like their namesakes in anyway only because I know nothing about them and just wanted to write Wade/Peter and Weasel/MJ and they sounded badass. 
> 
> I think those are the main points for confusion for the story, if not just ask. Or hopefully I can finish the other story soon and this will all be moot.
> 
> Also editing is not my forte so mistakes are all mine.

“You can’t let him see me like this,” MJ knows she shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in drugs, but it’s an escape, she doesn’t feel guilty, not like she should at any rate. She needed to escape and if this was the way she did it, well, then this was the fucking way she did it. It’s the time she doesn’t have to think about debt, about Peter, about every little thing to keep them afloat, and she doesn’t have to hide how she’s feeling from Peter because she doesn’t feeling anything but peace.

She knows what she looks like a day into detoxing. It’s not that she thought she could do it herself just that she needed to start somewhere. She knew Deadpool would have someone watching her, keeping an eye on her, so she figured if she got too bad someone would show up, possibly Deadpool himself. Then again, when Deadpool was with Peter unless it was life or death he wouldn’t spare her any thought. 

It’s not that she figured they’d be one big happy family. Even if that’s what she and Peter were. It’s all new and exciting for them and Peter may see her and love her as family but he couldn’t know she stooped this low. Deadpool was just angry that she did something, admittedly stupid, for herself with no thought for Peter. And yeah, that’s bad, but she knows that if it was the other way around and it was Peter doing something, admittedly not as stupid, for himself than he’d have no problem accepting it, probably would encourage it.

MJ knows she’s jealous and wants what they have but not the way they have it. She doesn’t want a daddy, she doesn’t want to be told what she can or can’t do. She wants to be free. She wants to be free from everything for a little while, but it’s hard when she’s not free of the addiction, doesn’t feel free from debt. She feels like any day Deadpool could call in a favour, or one of Venom’s men can come back and take over their debt and she could be left for the wolves. She’s already flunked out of college and she feels like there’s nothing for her and she can’t run because she has nothing, is nothing and has no one to help her.

She feels like she’s drowning and it’s worse than before because she doesn’t have drugs and she doesn’t have Peter. It makes her wonder if it was the debt that made her feel like this in the first place or maybe it just legitimized it. Before Aunt May got sick everything was easy even if MJ didn’t feel it. They had food and a place to live and they loved each other. They were a family even if she always felt like an outsider because she didn’t look the same. Looked like pity or a mistake. 

She spent hours by May’s bed while Peter was working and cutting deals with bad men to pay for the hospital bills. She felt guilty but she knew what Peter couldn’t and wouldn’t grasp. May wasn’t leaving this hospital and no amount of money was going to change that. So, like always she had to be the realist. She had to put school and work on hold to be by May’s side while Peter was deluded and working for something he wouldn’t ever achieve. 

She had to watch the only mother figure she had get worse, grow frail, and wither away right in front of her own fucking eyes. So fuck everyone that wants to blame her for what she is. She snorted coke to get away from it all so who gives a fuck? And maybe she was as high as a fucking kite when she said she was collateral. Even if she wasn’t, it would have amounted to the same fucking thing. They had no choice, she had no choice, never has any goddamn choices and if motherfucking Deadpool of all fucking people wanted to talk shit because his precious baby boy had to what? Face fucking reality for a goddamn change? Well, that shouldn’t be on her. 

It wasn’t Deadpool that came into her room as she threw up in a bucket beside her bed sweating uncontrollably and feeling like she was going to die. It was Weasel. MJ had never met him before but new about him, had drops near him when she was working for Carnage the biggest in the drug game in New York. 

She was smart about that though. Not like Peter. She kept her head down, didn’t ask questions because she didn’t want to know anymore than the place she had to drop off the merchandise and pick up the money. She didn’t know what was in the packages, or that’s what she’d say if she was ever caught. She never actually saw Carnage she was pretty low level and wanted to keep it that way. Working at the bar helped, let her do her drops without any problems.

“See you had your last hurrah. I thought you OD-ed had to come in here a few times to check your pulse.” Weasel says like he’s commenting about the weather. It doesn’t make MJ angry which is weird but then again MJ feels like she’s dying and can’t be bothered to do anything but breathe. It also helps to make her feel calm because he doesn’t seem worried so either she is going to die and there’s nothing to do about it, or this is normal. She’s going with the latter because even if Deadpool doesn’t like her he can’t let her die, and Weasel must know that.

“Are you always such a beast in the sack or is it the drugs that make you have no inhibitions? Not gonna lie when I saw you riding that guy couldn’t hold back fucking my hand. And shit girl, your tits are magnificent.” MJ can’t help but snort, regrets it as her nose burns with stomach acid. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” MJ says voice destroyed and isn’t sure if Weasel can understand her.

“We’ll revisit that when you’re feeling better. I’m here to take you somewhere. Get you sober and have you on your merry little way.”

MJ thinks it’s pretty optimistic to think he’ll be able to move her, especially as she starts imitating the exorcised.

“Okay, I’ll wait. But please hurry up.” MJ rolls her eyes probably looking more possessed and Weasel is one of these assholes it seems.

After what seems like hours but is probably less then one MJ has thrown up literally everything in her body and feels weak. She wants to clean herself, feels her skin crawl and itch with withdrawal, and just wants it all to stop. It would be so easy.

“If I made a deal with you would you go for it?” MJ asks the bucket but Weasel makes a questioning noise. “If you got me some coke, let me clean myself up, you could see for yourself how much of a beast I am in the sack.”

Weasel laughs but not like it’s funny.

“Oh MJ, normally, I wouldn’t care. Normally, you wouldn’t be on my radar. Normally, you wouldn’t be a job. However, you are, so as much as I’d love to have you fucking yourself on my cock, no can do. Well, at least if you’re not sober. Plus, right now, you’re a mess, which again wouldn’t bother me, but I’m not that much of an asshole. At least not today because today you’re pathetic and tomorrow you’ll be pathetic and the next and so on until you no longer try to sell your body for drugs.”

“I like how you didn’t say not to sell my body period.”

“Eh, it’s good money, even on the skinny side you’d make bank. Once you’re clean and put some more meat on your bones? Fuck, you’d make a killing. You’ve actually been selling yourself short just getting drugs for sex. You could have got more money and more drugs if you took the cash. But it’s probably better that none of the dealers saw you like that or they’d bring you straight to Carnage, and although you’re a tough cookie that guy would fucking break you apart and you wouldn’t feel a thing because you’d have popped so many pills you’d never know you died.”

MJ doesn’t want to move yet, scared she has more to vomit. It’s kind of nice talking to Weasel since there’s no hidden agenda, he doesn’t actually get anything out of it, and she doesn’t have to lie.

“I made drops for him so it’s not like people in the organization didn’t know about me.”

“Yeah, Carnage is a really good business man. Doesn’t shit where he eats. Since you were working for him and you weren’t fucking anything up or stealing from the supply there’s no reason to make it an issue. Now, since you’ve quit, you could be fair game. But since I’m selfless we’re not gonna put you out in the world to be used again.” MJ smirks and it feels like a grimace.

“What if I like to be used.” Any sick sense of comfort she had talking to Weasel dries up because she doesn’t want shit getting too real, Weasel doesn’t care, doesn’t get to know her this much.

“Oh, little girl, you’re coming down fast. We better get you cleaned up and on the move or I don’t know if we’ll be able to do it.” MJ agrees but when she goes to stand she has no strength to do so. “Well, guess we’re going to get close and personal. Don’t worry you’re too fucked up to get me hard and even if you did I’m a slightly decent human being so I won’t make it creepy. Well, creepier than I am since I’m about to give you a bath.”

MJ doesn’t and can’t care as Weasel picks her up. She’s been naked the whole time with her body wracked with shivers. It’s too hot, too cold and Weasel is there in a hot flash and so creeped out isn’t something she can feel right now. 

“Fuck, you look skinny but you’re lighter than I thought,” Weasel states as he brings her to the small, shitty bathroom. He sets her down on the toilet, but she can’t go, can never go. He starts the bath testing the water. He moves to touch her sweaty forehead.

“How long have you been hot?” Weasel asks and she doesn’t bother opening her eyes just leans into his touch which is cooler than her skin.

“Since naked.” MJ replies and it’s hard to get the words out. She just wants a fix but knows she can’t. She can’t. 

“Okay, so fever is happening,” Weasel turns the water colder, but not ice cold, turning it hotter until the water is tepid. “I’m gonna put you in now.”

Weasel is gentle as he washes MJ, doesn’t linger anywhere to the point of clinical. It makes MJ relax but she’s not sure if it’s due to the bath itself. He washes her hair and MJ blinks back tears because the last and only person to do this for her was Aunt May. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Weasel soothes but it only makes the tears fall faster and her throat get tight.

“Don’t be nice to me.” MJ croaks out and Weasel stays silent. He stays silent as he finishes bathing her, and he takes her back to her room and dries her off. It’s silent as he brushes through her hair and puts it in a badly done loose braid. Silent save for the muffled sobs that break through.

She can’t do this. The whole point was she didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want to feel that gaping hole of loss and it’s all coming back and she’s too weak. Always been too weak and sensitive. It’s easier when people are hurtful and hateful with her. When they say what they’re thinking, to hell with her feelings, because she doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to navigate what they truly think and feel for her.

The guys that fuck her do just that. Let her know she’s only a fuck, only something to get their dick wet, and she can’t say she hates it because she’s as bad as them, wants to get high and fuck and come and feel good. She doesn’t have to think beyond that, doesn’t have to play therapist on herself to figure out why she likes that. 

Weasel hands her clothes and she cringes. Everything she has is tight and constricting even if she has lost weight. The clothes don’t look like hers and are bigger and bulkier than anything she’d ever own. 

“They’re mine. Figured you wouldn’t be able to stand clothes and would want something loose.” MJ doesn’t look at Weasel, can’t because as much shit as he was talking he sounds sincere, and sounds like he cares. And MJ really can’t deal with people caring, imagined or not, because she doesn’t even care about herself. Only sobering herself because she needs to for Peter, and she wants to show Deadpool that she can, and that she’s not a weak and stupid girl. (Even though that’s exactly what she is).

She doesn’t want to hide, wants to be free, but being sober isn’t going to do that. But MJ has always been a masochist when she’s had to and pain is all relative in the end. It’s pettiness that’s she’s doing this more than for herself. That’s probably going to be a problem in the near future, but she’ll deal with it when she gets there. 

“Thanks.” The word is clogged with tears but Weasel doesn’t mention it and she’s grateful. She’s grateful and she hates feeling gratitude because it means she owes someone something. 

She’s been zoning out this whole time. Weasel has dressed her in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He’s been watching her and when she notices for some reason it brings her back to the present and although she’s clean she still tastes the stale tang of vomit in her mouth. 

“We should go.” MJ realizes he’s packed a bag. She’s really leaving, really going to get sober and she panics.

“I need to brush my teeth.” She doesn’t wait for a response, stumble runs into the bathroom slamming the door and locking it. She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe or think and if she could have one more hit she would be able to. Knows it without a doubt. She could figure it out. She could be a functioning addict. She wouldn’t have to stop. She could cut down. That’s it. She could cut down and only use when she really needs to because she can’t not have it in her life. It’s the only good thing she has and she can’t. 

She has to have something in the cabinet, any kind of pills, something to take the edge off. She turns on the water and finds her toothbrush and paste. He might check. He might know she didn’t come in here just to brush her teeth. She keeps the brush in her mouth as she frantically searches the bathroom.

She finds solace in two oxy’s left over from when Peter got the shit kicked out of him. The tears stream because that was her fault too. There’s a couple Tylenol’s with codeine. It’s not much but it would definitely make her feel better. Her heart jumps in her throat when Weasel bangs on the door.

“Don’t be stupid MJ,” it’s the first time he’s said her name, the first time he’s sounded angry and serious. She shakes for a moment and spits out the toothpaste that fizzing in her mouth.

“I’m not stupid,” doesn’t know why she yells it back.

“Yes, you are. You’re a little stupid fucking girl especially if you take whatever you got in there. It isn’t going to be much because you wouldn’t hide your proper shit anywhere Peter could find it. It wouldn’t do much, except set you back a few hours, and then you’d be puking again. It’s not going to change anything. I’m still taking you out of here, and I’m still getting you sober.”

He’s only doing it for Deadpool. He’s only doing this for someone else. It’s confusing MJ because she knows that’s why he is, knows it hurts that no one else, not Peter, not any of the lowlifes she works with noticed or cared enough to do this. 

“I need it. I need it. You don’t know how much. I don’t like feeling things. It’s the only good thing in my life. Just…just fuck off, tell that motherfucker Deadpool that you’ll do him another favour. I’m not ready to stop. I don’t ever want to stop.”

“Then you’ll die like this, strung out, in one of those cheap hourly motel rooms you get fucked in by pieces of shit.”

“Good.” MJ whispers as the door gets kicked down. Weasel looks pissed, eyes dark and menacing and MJ can’t help but back up into the wall still holding the two bottles like a lifeline and feeling so fucking weak. Weasel takes a deep breathe nostrils flaring. 

“I can see we’re going to have to do this the hard way. It doesn’t surprise me with you though. Always gotta do things the hard way. Now, you don’t want orders, fuck you don’t even want order in your life. But I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you. You want to do it the hard way, but I like things the easy way, and you’re too fucked up looking a goddamn gift horse in the mouth. I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna be, you too fucked up to listen?” Weasel can see MJ in the moment before he speaks again. 

“I have a compound which I’m taking you to. You’re going to detox there. It’ll just be me and you so try not to fall in love with me as I nurse you back to health. It’ll be hard, I do have a big dick even if my face isn’t so pretty.” Weasel smirks but gets no response. “I have a nurse on speed dial, that’ll come in once a day to check on you and make sure you’re hydrated and we’re doing this the right way. Number one rule. You do as I say. It doesn’t matter why I want you sober. I do. End of. Deep down you want to be sober or you wouldn’t have started this on your own. You may say it’s because of Peter or Wade but you’ve been feeling like shit for hours before you knew I was here and you didn’t look for these.” Weasel says nodding to the bottles clutched in MJ’s hands. He takes a few steps closer but she doesn’t try to retreat any further. “Give them to me.” 

Weasel isn’t used to being an authority figure. Not really. Not at his jobs, even if he’s kind of the boss, and not in the bedroom. He’s a fun loving guy with a penchant for murder and sex, but definitely not together, and it’s not murder per se as mush as the money for setting up hits. He does have a moral code even if it’s buried deep and most people don’t see it. But one thing Weasel hates? Wasted potential, and if MJ doesn’t stop this, that’s what she’ll be. Because MJ could be happy, could live a good life (not that he was lying about the money from hooking even if some people wouldn’t call that a good life). 

She hasn’t lost everything yet. She will if she continues and Peter finds out. He’d try to help and if that didn’t work after countless promises broken he’d give her an ultimatum that she’d choose wrong and he’d be gone. He’d be gone and she’d think she was right that nobody cares about her or wants her and she’d snort until she died. Weasel doesn’t want that. It must be something in his look that makes her bare her teeth.

“Don’t pity me.”

“Then don’t be so fucking pitiful and hand me the fucking pills Michelle!” He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as he watches all the colour drain from her face and her hands go lax letting the bottles drop. 

“D…don’t call me that please,” and fuck if she didn’t sound as pitiful as she looks.

“Okay, just MJ, that’s okay right?” He knows it’s right but tries to sound cajoling as he says it, he makes a placating gesture as he moves closer to her. He doesn’t know if she wants to be hugged and keeps a safe distance but it’s all moot when she falls into his arms. Weasel scoops her up, walks back to get her bag, and she’s holding on to him so tight it isn’t a challenge to hold her in one arm and her bag in the other. 

There’s a cab waiting for them and Weasel maneuvers them in. MJ won’t let go, hiding her face in his throat, tears streaming down her face as she shakes like a leaf but holds him tight. Her legs are on either side of his as the cab drives off. 

It’s a long drive, longer than Weasel wants but it’s the safest place for her and the best he has. He knew the problem with getting involved would be getting attached, even though he’s known for being an asshole and not caring about things, it’s only because he doesn’t let himself. When there’s silent tears running down her face as she hugs her too thin body close to Weasel’s it’s a done deal. This is no longer just a favour to Deadpool.

She’s sleeping fitfully when they get to his compound. It’s probably for the best Weasel. He isn’t putting it past her to try for a jail break when it gets to much for her, better that she doesn’t know the way around the place, even if in her mindset right now she probably wouldn’t remember much. 

There’s a nurse already in her room when they get there. The bed only has a sheet on it since she’ll be sweating in no time. He puts her down carefully as she sleeps. The nurse follows him out of the room.

“There’s not much to be done right now. We just have to keep an eye on her for seizures. What you’ve told me leads me to believe she’s not the worst of addicts and hopefully she’ll have an easier withdrawal,” The nurse shrugs, “that’s relative in any case because it won’t be easy. For now, we keep an eye on her and try to keep her hydrated. Once she’s able to keep water and food down we can start her on some benzodiazepines. However, we first need to let what I call the first stage of withdrawal pass and I’ll be able to hook her up to an IV to help with the hydration. I can’t do it now because she’ll only rip it out and hurt herself. You just have to watch for seizures, again since she hasn’t been using for long and as often as other addicts I’m hoping we don’t have any problems but be on guard. We aren’t worrying about removing any objects from around her because she isn’t allowed to have anything in her room, so all you really need to do is turn her on her side. Don’t put anything in her mouth, and don’t try to hold her down. I’d like for you to keep the time and how many times it happens if they are frequent and I’m not here.”

“That’s it just leave her here, give her water and turn her on her side if she has a seizure?” Weasel asks and the nurse nods.

“Basically, the whole thing about rehabilitate for her is she’s the one that has to go through it, she’s the one that has to process everything and come to terms with her life here on out without drugs. It’s mentally, emotionally, and physically taxing on her. But she’s doing all the work, we are here to make sure she’s safe and able to do that, and have the tools not to backslide when she’s done. You’ll have to look into a therapist for her at some point because drugs are the symptom not the disease, she has to deal with why she needs drugs to function.”

Weasel is not about to bring a therapist here. The nurse scoffs because apparently she can read him like a book.

“You can’t be the only person she sees and talks to about this. She’s going to end up dependant on you and if anything happens. If you decide it’s too much work or she’s too much work, or if you fight and she takes it seriously, or if anything triggers her, she’s more likely to relapse and there’s already an 80 percent chance she will. It’s not safe or sane, it’ll be the equivalent of Stockholming her. Why do you think in rehab facilities they don’t condone relationships? They’re relationships in pressure cookers and sooner or later it’ll explode and the difference here is that you aren’t the one paying for it, she is. Think about it. I know it’s hard for you since what you’re job normally entails but if you have the money than you can find someone that can’t talk. You found me.”

“It’s always easier with nurses,” Weasel says and it sounds hollow no matter how true it is. 

“Well, all I can say if you don’t find one, you need to be very careful not to cross any lines with her. Be her counsellor and her friend, but not her purpose. She needs to stand on her own or she’ll fall.”

Weasel may be an asshole, but he’s not selfish even if having a sober MJ dependant on him doesn’t seem like a bad idea, he won’t go through with it at any rate.

He watches her as she writhes in pain, stomach cramping up and has nothing to throw up so she dry heaves through it. Weasel didn’t think it would be so hard to watch. This isn’t the first person he’s seen go through withdrawal, but it is the first person that makes him wince in sympathy thinking she doesn’t deserve it.

Everyone is a victim of their circumstances. Weasel knows better than most. He didn’t have the best childhood, best life, or the best of friends so he didn’t turn out to be the best. He’s loyal but it’s shaky in this kind of world, in the world he’s made for himself. It’s weird being a voyeur in MJ’s life knowing more about her than she realizes. He’s been made to watch her by Deadpool. He may have taken it more seriously than he should have.

Like he said he’s seen her fuck and be fucked, seen her snorting to her hearts content and falling into a blissful induced stupor. Seen ribs protruding through skin, nails bitten down bloody waiting for a hit, and he’s seen the loneliness. 

Weasel knows what it is to be lonely, knows how to hide it, even from himself, maybe especially from himself. But like calls to like, and he sees it in MJ, sees it eat away at her. Weasel sees that pain and maybe it’s because she’s beautiful masquerading as ugly that it hurts him to see her that way. Maybe watching her for too long made him think they were friends or that he had some responsibility for her as more than a job for Deadpool. 

Weasel doesn’t want to delve any deeper into those thoughts scared of what he might find out.

It’s a few days before she’s conscious enough to talk. Weasel has bathed her through the worst of the fever, pulled her hair back as she vomited the water he made her drink, bandaged any self inflicted wounds and made sure she’s been as comfortable as she can be.

“What makes this annoying,” MJ says as Weasel hands her a cup of water into her shaking hands, “is that I honestly didn’t think I’d get to this point. Which is pretty naïve, I know. But I know other people can handle just doing some coke or popping a few pills for fun and going back to normal and not touching the stuff until they feel like it. I figured I could be like that.”

“You see the difference between you and them though, right?” Weasel asks and MJ shrugs listlessly and takes a sip of water. “They do it for fun. They do it for a quick high that makes a party or whatever more fun. You didn’t do it to have fun, you did it so you didn’t have to feel.” 

“You a therapist now? You act like you know me.”

“I’m not saying that, but I know you better than you think. You know Deadpool has been keeping an eye out on you for a little bit, I’m the eye. And you’ve said some things when you’ve been sleeping.” For the first time MJ seems alarmed. “Don’t worry, nothing too big, nothing I didn’t know, nothing that you’d worry about getting out,” MJ watches him for a moment, calculating, and although Weasel doesn’t like the look he can’t seem to care because she finally seems cognizant.

“If you say so,” MJ says drinking more water, “so how long have we been here?” 

“Four days, the nurse says you’re doing okay but she’ll be in today to hook up an IV make sure you’re hydrated because you’ve been sweating more than you’ve been able to drink. She thinks you’ll only need it for a day. She actually should be here now. I’ll go check.”

“Have you been cleaning me?” Weasel can’t decipher the tone.

“Yes, but don’t worry kid, nothing I haven’t seen before.” MJ snorts but doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room.

It’s been two weeks and MJ seems to be in a better place. The benzos have been helping her keep down food and sleep easier. She actually smiles when Weasel brings her breakfast, but Weasel isn’t stupid he knows she wants something.

“Can I leave this room because as well as you guys have been taking care of me, and especially now that I can have my own showers it smells in here, and I’m going to go stir crazy. So like can we take a walk?”

“Okay but don’t get any wild ideas.”

“I’m not going to try to jump the fence to get drugs. I don’t even want them.” Weasel gives her a look that must show his disbelief and MJ barks out a short laugh. “Okay, I mean, I don’t want to want them. I’m not saying I like being in my head this much, but it’s easier being here. I don’t have to worry about anything here all I have to do is be. Which is fucked up since this isn’t really legit and you’ve essentially kidnapped me, but you get me food, get me boring ass books so you don’t trigger some meltdown, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to watch TV. I don’t mind the child painting you’ve got me doing either. I know I need to talk to Peter, and since I’ve been able to think better I’m guessing Deadpool would have told him where I am right now. But even I know I can’t talk to him right now.”

“It would probably be best to wait another week or whenever you’re ready.”

Weasel doesn’t think he’s kept the anger out of his voice as she gives him that calculating look again, he gives her a smile and she narrows his eyes when it doesn’t reach his.

“It’s kind of cold. I didn’t think this far so I don’t have a coat for you but I have some thicker sweats and a hoodie. It’ll just have to be a short walk but I’ll have a coat brought in for you. Is there anything else you need? Books, more paint, food suggestions I’ve been keeping it mild because I was worried your stomach and palate couldn’t take it, or clothes. I mean, I haven’t gotten you much but whatever you want it’s yours.” That look is still on her face and it makes Weasel’s blood run cold and this is why he doesn’t normally talk with her. He lets her talk to him, and he sympathizes even empathizes with her. Tries to talk her through her issues with her piece of shit mother and father, the pieces of shit she’s had to deal with in school, and her resentment for Peter for never noticing.

That’s the biggest issue MJ has is feeling invisible and when she isn’t she wants to be. Weasel tries to be impartial, tries to act detached but it’s hard because MJ is a good person. She may have ran drugs, may have done them, and sold her body for them, but that doesn’t make her a bad person. It just shows she’s a sad girl that no one has looked after and it makes Weasel have to grit his teeth because MJ can talk all day about being independent but she’s lying when she says she doesn’t need anyone.

He has to grit his teeth not to offer to be that person. He can see her latching on to him, looking at him for guidance and reassurance and he gives it but not the way he wants, the way she wants because that’s going down a path that makes him feel sick when he thinks about it. It could be so easy to have her, so easy to keep her, but he’s not going to be that guy.

Once he has her all wrapped up in his clothes that dwarf her. He knows he shouldn’t get that possessive thrill when he sees her looking up at him with a real smile, but he does. 

She watches as he unlocks one door to lead them down a hallway, and then unlocks another. It’s a bit of a maze and she’s feeling okay right now, not going out of her mind and scratching down her arms in agitation, she knows those feelings aren’t gone but they’re quiet. They’re quiet enough she doesn’t try to memorize the way, or try to steal the keys. She could do it. He doesn’t want to hurt her, just like he doesn’t want to like her, but he’s only losing one of those battles.

When they leave the building there’s two armed guards that make her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he just smirks, neither speak until they are well out of ear shot. She takes his arm since it’s snowed sometime since she’s been outside. She’s only wearing slippers and she doesn’t have much grip. Weasel tenses but holds her more securely. 

“I didn’t realize you’d have armed guards,” she says into the silence that’s bordering on awkward that starts to make her skin itch. 

“People do want me dead.” Weasel says like it’s no big deal, and it makes MJ start for a moment. It’s true, she knows it’s true. He has talked about what his job entails, not in detail, and how he knew Peter and how Peter and Deadpool were set up. She knows but hearing it is different and she doesn’t like the fact that she doesn’t like it. “Hey,” Weasel says and his voice is softer than it has any right being and MJ doesn’t know how to feel about that, “I said they want to, not that they will. It’s just a precaution especially since you’re here. Not that anyone knows where I am.”

“They could sell you out.” She doesn’t know why she says it or why she feels so adamant about this since he would know that.

“They could,” Weasel says shrugging, “but I may not be as hard to kill as Deadpool but it wouldn’t be easy for them. So they could bring more people into this, kill me, kill you and yeah that would suck.” MJ scoffs. “But you know what would suck more?” MJ shakes her head. “Being hunted by Deadpool when he’s out for revenge. Killing his best friend and his uh kept boys best friend?” MJ laughs at Peter’s descriptors. “Wouldn’t be painless or fast, quite the opposite. These guys?” Weasel says nodding back at the compound. “They’re smart. They make good money. Plus, they owe me. That doesn’t always mean much in the Merc game, highest bidder and all that bullshit, but we do have hearts even if we seem like we don’t and we still have codes, or most of us do. These guys wouldn’t sell me out, if anything they’d let me know what the price of my head was worth and I’d have to act accordingly. Right now, there are bigger fish to fry and they have families, so they don’t want to travel for the frying.” MJ smiles, making her nose crinkle and Weasel helplessly smiles back.

“Bet you know all about their families,” MJ says as she grabs Weasel’s hand to hold and not his arm.

“Like I said,” Weasel comes back to himself struggling on whether to let go of MJ’s hand, spoiler alert: he doesn’t. “They’re smart.”

“Guess so.”

Weasel is wondering whether he should take her out of the pen, since she’s not actually in jail, but she might be able to out run him. No, Weasel will wait for another time, this is her first time out and judging by the small smile on her face it’s enough just to walk around the place.

“So what did Peter do that made you upset?” MJ asks and is watching Weasel for a reaction. 

“He didn’t do anything to make me upset,” MJ rolls her eyes.

“Is it something you think would trigger me to jump the fence?” Weasel doesn’t think it will, but that’s not to say it wouldn’t set her back in some way; that it wouldn’t hurt her.

“It’s not anything. We had a disagreement. He wanted to write you a letter and put a few pictures in it. I know this isn’t a real rehab or sober house but I did ask around about what you should and shouldn’t do.” MJ shrugs but curls into herself a little but Weasel only tightens his grip on her hand.

“Well, if there were things he wanted to tell me, you know, he can.” Weasel chuckles darkly and shakes his head.

“I want you to listen to me, MJ.” Weasel turns them so she’s staring up at him. “This isn’t about him. Who gives a fuck what he has to say to you. It’s for you to decide if you want to hear it and when you want to.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Then he should be looking after you and not making it worse. I mean, I don’t know what’s in the letter, but I can guess and I don’t think he should put any pressure on you. As much as this is a favour to Deadpool for Peter, it’s a job. You are a job which means you’re my responsibility. We disagreed about the letter.”

“You don’t have it?”

“I may have ripped it up.”

“Why?” 

“Whatever he wrote in that letter whether he’s proud of you, or disappoint in you, or scared for you or angry or sad it doesn’t matter. What matter is what you feel. What matters is how you’re doing. He shouldn’t be writing you a letter not unless it’s in reply to yours. You started this. You wanted to get clean or else I wouldn’t have found you the way I did. My job was watch for any threats and if your drug use was getting out of hand.” Weasel shrugs, “I didn’t have to force you sober because you got too fucked up that you did it yourself. I’m just here to help, but it’s you who’s going through this and everyone should respect that.”

“It doesn’t help that I’m mad at him, and that I’m not allowed to be,”

“Who says?” MJ turns and wipes at her eye, hiding tears that form but Weasel sees them and it makes him want to break Peter’s face again.

“I can’t get mad at the only person I have because then I’ll have nobody.” Weasel grabs her chin to face him and his eyes are dark and his face is serious.

“If you think he’ll be a dick about this and turn his back on you for what you feel and what you’ve been going through then you don’t need him.” 

“But I don’t want to be alone that’s literally the one thing I can’t handle, you think I put myself up for collateral with Venom just because it was the only option for Peter to get time to get more money? I did it,” her voice is thick with tears and Weasel doesn’t let her turn from him. He doesn’t let her hide, “I did it because that way if he died then so would I.”

Weasel holds back everything that she shouldn’t hear. It doesn’t matter what he feels doesn’t matter what he wants to say because this is about her, and for the first time in her life she needs to understand what that means.

Their walk back into the compound is silent and when they get back to her room she seems out of sorts. Weasel sighs maybe a walk wasn’t the best idea.

“You look exhausted you should sleep for a few hours and I’ll bring dinner.” She nods her head on autopilot and Weasel doesn’t want any set backs. “Any preference?”

“Can you sleep with me?” Her voice is small and hesitant and Weasel knows what she means and it may be innocent but Weasel isn’t sure it’s a wise idea. “It’s just that I get cold and…and lonely.”

He’s going to hell. 

“Okay, but we can’t make this a habit.” MJ nods her head but seems so happy Weasel can’t even be upset that he’s not following the rules. 

MJ takes off the hoodie she’s wearing and the long tshirt underneath leaving her in only a tank top. Weasel only removes his shoes. MJ takes off her sweatpants leaving on a pair of very short shorts that make Weasel internally groan. 

“This is a bad idea.” MJ grins.

“Thought you’ve seen it all before? And whatever just bring up memories of me puking and being a total mess like the first time you cleaned me up. That’s got to kill any interest in me.”

“MJ, just get into bed.” MJ practically skips to bed. She bulldozes her way in, wraps Weasel around her like she wants him, tight to her body. “This is a really bad idea.”

“Do old guys like you still pop awkward boners?” 

“Well, lets not find out, and I’m not that old.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty six,”

“Kind of old.”

“Just because you’re a baby.”

“Twenty two is not a baby.” Weasel can practically her the smirk in her words, “unless you’re like Deadpool and you want me to call you daddy.” She means it as a joke and Weasel should definitely huff out a laugh or something anything other than shift his lower half away from her. She turns on him and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re a sick fuck too!” She’s smiling though and Weasel rolls his eyes.

“Okay MJ enough excitement. Let’s go to sleep.” Let this just be another thing Weasel doesn’t talk or think about and MJ never brings up. MJ turns back over, settles herself closer, filling the space that Weasel made with her ass. “MJ!” she stops wiggling any closer and Weasel will take that as a win.

They breathe with each other, but Weasel knows she isn’t asleep yet, and can’t fall asleep before her. She’s slightly tense and when Weasel actively starts listening he can tell she wants to say something. 

“What?” Weasel makes sure his voice is soft and soothing and it makes MJ relax.

“You don’t have to answer but why do you like that, you know, to be called Daddy?” Weasel takes a deep breath and lets it out blowing her hair with it.

“I don’t always like it. Not with every girl. But there’s some that need a daddy,”

“And what does that mean?”

“I know a lot of people use it as a sex thing, but mostly for me, it’s not. Like yeah, it is, but. Jesus. Okay, some people need to be taken care of, shown attention, and feel needed. It’s not like I want to call you my kid or my daughter, but my,” Weasel should have said he didn’t want to answer because it’s turned from general statements to pointed and fuck they are pointed right at MJ.

“Your what?”

“My baby girl,” Weasel tries to move back but MJ doesn’t let him holding on tight to his arms.

“That sounds kind of sweet.” 

“It’s supposed to be.”

“So you’re saying if you had a baby girl you’d only be sweet to her?” 

“Depends what’s sweet for her,”

“So-“ Weasel puts his hand over her mouth so she can’t speak.

“I didn’t like this idea. I thought it was a bad idea and you’re proving to me I was right. You can either ask your next question and I’ll even answer it but I’m not staying, or you don’t say anything else and we go to sleep. Do you understand?” MJ nods her head and Weasel takes his hand away.

MJ get comfortable again, making sure not to touch Weasel.

“Sorry,” Her voice is small and uncertain and Weasel thinks to hell with it and wraps himself fully around her.

“It’s okay, let’s just sleep.”

MJ wakes before Weasel and uses that time to just watch him. She doesn’t think he’s her type but she doesn’t really even know what that is anymore. He’s tall and strong and while he wasn’t GQ material she did like his eyes and his smile, he has good teeth, always a plus in her book.

She doesn’t have much time to think about it before he’s moving around and she feigns sleep. After he’s gotten up she pretends to wake up.

“Hey, we slept later than I thought. I’m going to get your dinner, any request?” MJ stretches and likes the way Weasel eyes her, doesn’t so much like the way he stops when he realizes what he’s doing.

“Can I have ice cream for dessert?”

“Yeah good idea, we need to fatten you up a bit,” MJ just looks at him, “Yes, it’s true I should have found a better way to say that but you do need more calories.”

“Will you eat with me?” It’s not unusual for Weasel to eat with her in the last week but his eyes shutter.

“It’s probably best if we don’t.” He doesn’t look at her face when he says this. “I’ll be back in a little bit with something.”

Weasel doesn’t eat with MJ, which doesn’t mean that he’s become responsible. No, it just means he watches her on his monitor. Watches as she pushes her food around her plate and looks despondent. He knows he didn’t do that to her, that her life and her choices and her only options did, but he knows he could make it better. It would be so easy to make her smile. 

Weasel doesn’t like making her feel bad. So he ends up giving in, and giving in and giving in and he knows they’re too close now. Weasel eats with her and sleeps with her only putting up token protests but MJ has learned to give him puppy eyes and a pout that has him doing whatever she wants.

When her nurse comes in to say that MJ’s well on her way to recover, or as well as someone can, and Weasel can’t help but feel elated and disappointed. He doesn’t want her dependent. He doesn’t want her hurting or using, but he wants her. He knows it’s not healthy how he does, wants all her attention and focus, wants them to live in this bubble where it’s only them. Weasel isn’t stupid. He knows that once she’s better, once she’s able to live a little easier, things that take her mind off the drugs, when she’s finally safe and content she’ll find someone better to focus on.

He isn’t a catch. He has money, yes, but if she really wants to get out of this life she’d stay away from him. From drugs, from prostitution, from fucking mercenaries. It makes guilt churn low in his gut because he wants and she looks at him like she wants too. 

“You’re still too close to her,” the nurse says and Weasel holds back a snarl. “But, to be honest I thought you’d have done more. I’ve seen better men take things less freely offered.” It’s not exactly a compliment but it isn’t really an insult. 

They’ve just returned from a walk when everything comes to a head. He thought he’d been better by keeping a little more distance while remaining there for her. He still sleeps with MJ, but he never touches her elsewhere. 

It’s as she angrily taking off Weasel’s hoodie, never getting the jacket he had promised, and glaring at him.

“What’s the matter?” It only makes her glare intensify, her face flushing, and she bares her teeth.

“Why won’t you fuck me?” Weasel has an out of body experience for a moment, his head riling and his breath punched out. He didn’t think she’s say that. Doesn’t really know how to answer. 

“MJ,” He says gently and realizes his mistake when her eyes narrow even further. “Listen, I know you hate hearing what’s best for you, but it’s not me, and it’s not like this. You’ve been fucking Stockholmed. You’ve only had me for company it’s normal for you to have feelings for me that aren’t real. I’ve been the only one to help you. You’re feeling gratitude, and you’re lonely, and you don’t have much to do but think and I’m sure it seems like a good idea but I’m not a good guy and I’m not right for you.” He also doesn’t mention that if he had her he wouldn’t be able to let her go and probably kidnap her for real.

MJ snorts.

“I’m not as naïve as you think I am. Do you think I don’t know that my feelings are intensified by being here. That doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want or who I want. You always try to say you’re a bad guy, but you’re not, you want to be, but you aren’t. I’ve met bad guys and they would have fucked me by now, made me dependent on them for everything. If anything, you don’t want me dependent on you at all.”

She doesn’t know his thoughts though. What he thinks about when she’s pressed up so close to him at night his cock throbbing. Thinks about pushing her face into the mattress fucking her hard, hearing her whine and try to fuck herself back on his cock, but he wouldn’t let her, just make her take it, take it until she comes, and fuck her through it until she comes and comes again sobbing with it and then he’d paint her smooth thighs with his come, keep her dirty as long as she could take it, and wash her clean and put her to bed.

She doesn’t know that but with that way she’s looking at him now he thinks she might have an idea. Might even want that.

“I know we’re in a bubble. I know that. I also know that I get so wet when you’re beside me because you take care of me, you like it, you want to. I want to let you. I want to be your baby girl.” MJ looks so sure of herself, but he can see the vulnerability where her lips are pulled a little too tight.

“I don’t-“ she doesn’t let him finish.

“You want to. I know you do. You want to give me what I need. Especially when I leave here. I need structure. I need rules. You can give that to me, can gladly give that to me, unless you want it to be someone else.” He takes a step forward and realizes his mistake she’s right where she wants him. “Don’t like that idea, do you?” Her lips aren’t tight anymore, she has on a smirk and her eyes are bright. 

He takes a deep breath. He knows he shouldn’t, but since the day he first watched her in her apartment he knew he was a goner. Knew he’d end up here, but not like this, not with her asking.

“We’re leaving in a week. I’ve got an apartment set up on fifth for you. It’s nice, kind of small, but its been redone, everything new. Hot water for days. It’s not as expensive as you think, and Peter has said he’d be able to set you up a few interviews when you’re ready,” she knows he isn’t done and he takes another breath, “we think it’s best for you to work at a place that does random drug tests.”

“Do you?” There’s not any heat in the words but there’s something off.

“That or have us do it for you. I thought it was best since if you do relapse we can find out without being too intrusive. Plus, sometimes even without drugs, or anything like that you’ve been known to be erratic, and I know you’ll be feeling pressure out in the real world, so I don’t want Peter or Wade, to make assumptions on how you’re coping, you know? Like you might do something odd, or I don’t know be secretive about something and the first thing they’ll think is that you’re using again. I’m not saying I wouldn’t either, but if you tell me you haven’t I want to believe you, so I don’t want it to be us deciding when to check because I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“Anything else?” MJ she says flippantly but Weasel knows he hasn’t answered her question. “Anything else about how you don’t like the thought of someone else fucking me in your place? Or about how I said I wanted to be your baby girl?”

“I want us to get out of here. I want you to be without me. I want you to know what you’re getting into, because you don’t, you really fucking don’t. I want you to come to me when you’re ready.”

MJ walks up to him until they’re almost touching, but stops and just looks at him. He doesn’t know what she sees. She gives him a small smile, one that looks genuine, even if it looks a bit forced.

“How long do you think I need to wait?” Weasel blows out a sigh.

“When you’re ready.” He repeats and she rolls her eyes, moves back near the bed and continues taking off her clothes.

“You’re still going to sleep with me, right?” He should say no, there’s only a week left. 

“This is the last night. It’s best if you try on your own for when you’re in your apartment.” MJ hides a smile but goes along with it. She thinks she be able to convince him.

She does, for the next night, but not the rest. He’s slowly becoming distant and it makes MJ want to turn in on herself. She doesn’t because she knows it’s a test. She knows what he thinks as much as he might wish she didn’t. He wants her. He wants her so badly it must make his gums ache with how much he grits his teeth and tenses his jaw. He thinks she’ll move on, and maybe she could, but she doesn’t want to. So what if they met under extenuating circumstances and so what that she only had him to rely on? If anything it’s more real. He knows her. Knows her in a way no one does, not Peter, not Aunt May, not anyone.

It might be bad, but the way he wants her makes it fit better, he wants her to be independent but to depend on him when she needs someone. He wants her trust and her loyalty and her body, he wants it all possessively and fully. Which, yes, MJ isn’t stupid knows that’s not healthy, but its not like Peter’s relationship is any better. Not that she should compare, but so what, if she’s happy, if Weasel is happy, what does it matter?

She takes the distance and when she moves into her apartment, it is easier sleeping on her own than it used to be. She doesn’t always want to be alone, but knows for this test she’ll have to be. She stifles a laugh as she looks around the place, it’s mostly furnished, a couch, coffee table, some appliances and all other necessities, but it’s as she’s looking in her closet, most of her clothes are there, all except her hooking ones and seemingly in its place is a hoodie and sweat pants many sizes too big. 

She smiles softly to herself, oh no, he doesn’t want to be forgotten. MJ never thought that Weasel would do anything but stack the deck in his favour. It’s okay, MJ already knew what she was going to do, and really Peter can’t judge her for becoming Weasel’s baby girl, if Peter is already someone’s baby boy.

Old MJ would have rolled her eyes at the ridiculous terms of endearments, but she’s becoming partial to the name, and anyways what was that saying again?

If you can’t beat em’, join em’.


End file.
